


Adventures of the Thief

by TableTopGamer



Series: Thief Malnar [2]
Category: Original Work, RPG - Fandom, Traveller, Traveller (Tabletop RPG)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Customs, Drug Dealing, Drug Running, My First Fanfic, Organized Crime, Other, Outer Space, Pirates, Smuggling, Space Crew, Space Opera, Space Pirates, Space Stations, Spaceships, Tea, Tea Parties, Thief, merchants, traveller - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-14 05:05:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16486454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TableTopGamer/pseuds/TableTopGamer
Summary: Follow Tabias as he flounders his was through space with a new crew. Watch them obsess with tea, smuggle goods, do a little drug running, and lie to some government officials. What could go wrong?





	1. A New Crew

There comes a point in everyone’s life where you just need a change. 

My name is Tabias Malnar and I am a thief. Not just a thief, but a Thief. A kingpin in my own right and founder of the first rogue port in the heart of the Imperial empire. My career peaked at the early age of fifty, now here I am two years later and I am bored out of my mind. Of course, I did have options. I could have my pick of any crew and take on just about any job, but what was the point? My name was too well known to captain my own ship and once you’ve hit the top, there’s really nowhere else to go. 

I’ve often wondered if boredom could kill someone; if my slow descent into monotony would eventually drive me mad, slide me into an apathetic stupor or even dry me out mentally, leaving me as a hollow shell of who I used to be. Truth be told, I’m not even sure who I used to be. Growing up poor, my only defining characteristic was my drive to make something of myself. As a young man, I poured myself wholly into my career as a Scout, once that was taken from me, I was consumed with the need for revenge and acknowledgement. My point being, I’m not sure at any point throughout my life, I’ve ever taken the time to figure out who I truly was. Now that my empire is stablised, I find myself consumed by this thought of lost opportunity. A change is definitely in order. I need to take some time for myself, to grow as an individual, not just as a driving force.

My opportunity came with spit shined shoes and a dapper coat. Jeffrey Von Starstrap. I had worked with him years ago running an up-and-coming drug called S.T.U.F.F. The partnership had ended when the military had gotten involved, leaving me on the run, and him imprisoned. I used to think of him as a charismatic puppy, overeager with a shiny view of the world. Time had settled well on him, the charisma merging with confidence and overeagerness tempered by caution. His swagger was almost cocky, but staged, like he knew how to play the room; like he wanted them to only see the shiny surface, not look to closely at what lay beneath. The puppy had bloomed into a peacock.

He of course, had a new business venture he wanted me involved in. After reacquainting himself with the mastermind creator of S.T.U.F.F. they had decided to put together a crew, to go forth on adventures. Hopefully to make some money in legal and not-so-legal ways. To be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to his spiel. It was of course a well practiced speech, his projection and intonation perfect to entice and draw me in, but I was struck by a simple realisation. This was my chance. My chance to explore and simply exist without pressure. My chance to retire into a life I never knew I wanted, but I now so desperately need.

 

The crew was small, there being only four of us in a hard used smuggling ship called the Fun Ducker whose lettering had faded leaving only the letters F U C K as legible. I thought it seemed appropriate. Inside the ship was even worse off than the paint job, the cargo bay was contaminated by radiation and other unknown filth. Pipes leaked and ooze collected on the floor. A poor ship design had lead to the cargo bay being the central point on the ship, all passage between the living area and the bridge had to cross through the muck. Spending too much time there led to headaches, nausea, and if you really lucky the occasional hallucination.

The four of us were an odd collection to be sure, Starstrap seemed to be the recruiting force and the glue that held us all together. He had gone to university with the medic, Dr Montalvo who is ex military and completely disillusioned from her previous career. She is a quiet, focused individual, unfailingly polite and by far the most professional of the group. The captain was the brain behind the whole drug development from my last encounter with Starstrap, one Dester Rathtine, the youngest of the bunch. He was a friendly, intelligent fellow, but often quite scatterbrained and disorganised. 

So after all these years I was again the new man in a crew. We all circled around one another, unsure of how we would slot together or to what extent we could trust one another. Our first mission was simple, to take a crate of goods to an asteroid in the Pophypso system and hand it over to one self-proclaimed ‘Captain’ Higgs. Then there would be further instructions. 

That first week was awkward, I spent my time amusing myself by attempting to suss out where the hidden hatches were in the ship, one that I failed at gloriously to the amusement of the everwatchful captain. My only other job at the time was to occasionally mop the floor in the cargo area and ensure the crate remained undamaged. It was menial work, but I didn’t mind.

The good Dr. Monty was the pilot of the ship; navigating us mostly unscathed, through the asteroid belt to the rendezvous point with Higgs. An initial scan of the rock face showed five life forms awaiting us; my job was cargo sitting duty, one that I took literally by sitting atop the cargo. Jeffrey Von Starstrap, with a swagger and a smile told me to wait for ‘the signal’ before bringing the cargo down. As he left the ship and began conversing with the homeless chic ‘Captain’, it occured to me that we hadn’t clarified what ‘the signal’ was.

Starstrap was in his element, waltzing down the cargo ramp with a gentle skip in his step and a large, radiant smile. The shine of his overly white teeth and the delicate gloss of his newly licked lips seemed to leave the poor defenseless men in front of him blinded. They blinked slowly, like owls, completely overwhelmed by the pizaz this man surrounded himself with. ‘Captain’ Higgs steps forward and the two engaged in conversation too quiet to be heard from where I sat.

Is this all adventuring is? I think to myself, leaning back on my elbows. I was expecting a little more fun, some adrenaline, or even a little dose of fear. I let my head fall back and start running through my list of potential smuggle nooks in the ship. I can feel pins and needles starting at my toes and the grooves on the crates are digging in awkwardly into my ass and elbows.

I’m pulled out of my reverie by the obnoxious hacking sound of someone clearing their throat. Lifting my head and looking down the ramp I see that everyone is staring at me, clearly this wasn’t the first attempt to get my attention. Starstrap gives me a firm look and jerks his head slightly towards the group. ‘Ah, that’ll be the signal.’ I think to myself ‘not very original.’ Rolling sideways off the box, I land in a crouch, narrowly avoiding a newly formed trail of ooze making its way towards the exit. With a soft grunt, I begin pushing the crate on its dolly out of the ship, using the rope handles to try and slow it’s descent down the ramp. I say try, mainly because my body weight did little to slow it down, it’s more accurate to say the crate dragged me along with it.

“That’s it, bring it out nice and slow” Higgs calls out. I snort to myself, as if I have a lot of control in the matter regarding speed.

“Nice and slow-” He repeats, “-so we know you ain’t gonna ambush us.”

My second snort is significantly less subtle. In the driest voice I have, with an air of nonchalant boredom I quip “Oh darn. You’ve stumbled on our cunning plan. Whatever shall we do now?”

“What?!” Black bushy eyebrows shoot up and are lost in black unruly hair. “You mean to ambush us? What is this?! BOYS!” with one last sharp shout and a quick raise of his arm - the signal, I assume- the team of smelly neanderthals whip out a series of firearms; all of which are outdated with obvious signs of rust and poor care and are quickly aimed at me. My hands shoot straight up in the air in the most obvious placating way I can. “Kidding! I was just kidding!” I call out loudly. “Guess sarcasm isn’t a universal trait” I mumble to myself. With a forced chuckle, Starstrap steps partly between me and Captain Higgs and begins soothingly talking about new recruits and the idiocies of hiring the elderly. With a furrowed brow, I glare at him, getting a wink in return.

“Yes well, if the Oldie here can’t mind his betters, I guess we’ll have to show him who’s boss.” Higgs tuts thoughtfully to himself, “..yes. Well now, I guess if you’re all honest and whatnot, then I’ll go ahead and give you the next shipment. Needs to be taken over to Lautov. There’s a green haired lady there waiting for it.” He starts bobbing on his toes, smiling with a sinister glee. “It’s a titch bigger than what you dropped off, but nothing your Oldie here can’t handle, right?”

I groan internally as the men who dispersed at the words ‘next shipment’ begin coming back, pushing five large military grade shipping containers. Each container is about five foot by five foot and by the slow steady pace by each of the men, I know they’ll be heavy to boot. 

It’s suitably humiliating. I push and I strain, slowly gaining ground as the crates grate against the ramp, making inching progress into the ship. I’ve never been particularly strong, always relying on my mind to solve my problems for me and at this moment I’ve never been more resentful of that. It seemed like hours, but in fact was only a few minutes, before I slid the fourth crate into it’s new temporary home. Puffing out a tired sigh as I trudge my way back down the ramp, letting the exaggerated slump of my shoulders show me as contrite and downtrodden. Just as I reach the final crate a quick whoop of alarm goes off on the ship, quickly followed by sharper quips in the handheld scanners each of the men had. It was a scanner blip. Ships were approaching the asteroid. 

With a sharp call, Higgs orders his men to quickly get the last crate on board. Starstrap and I rush and begin securing the load to prevent sliding on takeoff, and he gives a final jaunty wave to the men as he closes the loading ramp; giving Captain Rathtine the all clear. “I’m not that much older that you, you know.” giving Starstrap a quick elbow to the abdomen, I give him a sharp huff of displeasure. I get nothing but laughter in return.

 

The Fun Ducker takes off, Dr. Monty navigating her way through the asteroid belt with sweeping finesse, more than was managed the first time around. The Captain calls out orders to hide the shipment across the comms and Starstrap goes to one of the cargo bay walls and pushes a small bump in the grating. With a loud scraping noise, the panel slides back and a large hollow space opens and I can’t help my woop of excitement. “I KNEW IT!” I cry, bouncing on my toes and pointing at seeing the darkened hole, “I was right! They do exist! I totally called that.”

Starstrap looks over his shoulder and me, giving me a deliberate roll of his eyes. “Focus, let’s hide the stuff.” Snapping into action we start heaving the boxes across the bay. It seemed the hidey holes were is slightly better condition than the rest of the bay, there seemed to be less contamination within. Rathtine informed us that we were being followed by three Imperial Customs ships. His orders are to hurry and finish, as he needed Starstrap at the bridge and for me to go locate any tea we had. With a puzzled look, Starstrap turns to me “Tea? Do we drink tea?” I’ve got nothing but a shrug to give in response.

Starstrap goes off to the bridge to liaise communications with the Imperial ships and I make my way to the kitchenette. Rifling through cupboards of unlabelled tins I begin the tried and true method of tea location - the open and sniff technique. I end up throwing tins around the room throughout my search before finding an old fashioned mason jar at the back of a storage cupboard. Inside is half filled with loose leaf tea of some description. A cursory sniff reveals it as jasmine tea, it’ll work. Next I focus on locating a teapot, quickly finding it in a hallway, filled with dirt and the remains of some long dead plant. Dumping out the dirt, I give it a quick rinse and set about making tea.

“This is Commander Horscotch of the Imperial Customs division, hailing the captain of the unidentified vessel. Please slow and prepare to show identification.” The voice coming through the intercom system is scratchy and a bit muffled. “Horsecock? Did he say his name was Commander Horsecock?” Dester Rathtine turns to Jeffrey, his first mate, with brows raised. “Could be HorseCrotch, sir.” Dr. Montalvo pipes in. Jeff snorts before hailing the vessel back. “Ah, hello there! This is Jeffrey Von Starstrap, first mate aboard this humble vessel. We’d love to have you aboard, but there’s this teeny matter of all these asteroids. So let’s just get past these pesky rocks and we’ll open right up!” There's a brief pause, then “First mate Starstrap, I need to speak to the captain.” comes the curt response. “Guess I’m not gonna cut it this time,” Jeff says handing out the mic. “Oh. Right. Umm, this is Captain Rathtine of the Fun Ducker, we’re almost out the asteroid belt and then we’ll let you in. I’ll put the kettle on!”

With a smooth exit from the asteroid belt, the ship is then flanked by two of the waiting vessels. The third and largest of the ships pulls up behind the Fun Ducker, and after a brief warning message from Monty, the Commander enters the ship with three of his men. Jeff goes to meet them at the cargo entrance, and the commander attempts to hide the look of distaste at the ratty state of the bay. His men aren’t so successful. “Hiya folks, I’m Jeffrey, the first mate here, welcome aboard!” With a jovial smile, full of way too many teeth, he gives a sweeping gesture around the ship. “She may not look like much, but this is our home. Granted, she’s not quite as fine as what you’re used to, I’m sure. Just look at your uniforms! There’s not even a wrinkle to be found! Do you iron these yourselves?” 

The corner of the commanders mouth quirks slightly as he watches Jeffrey, before settling down into something more serious. “Please take me to your captain, First Mate.” With a bob of his head, and a theatrical half-bow, Jeff gestures to the men “Why of course! He was just making some tea. This way!”

The four men make their way into the ships main office, where Rathtine is standing awkwardly behind the desk in an attempt to look poised and official. The room is your typical middle sized square room, with a metal desk in the middle, a table in the far corner and a few bookshelves mounted to the walls. There are no windows or decorations to be seen. What is noticeable about the room, however, was the pure utter chaos within it. There are stacks and sheafs of papers on every flat surface available, the floor is lined with books and jars and bottles of chemicals. The table itself is covered in alchemical tools and notebooks with a fine layer of dust showing the rooms lack of use.

With a slow glance around the room, the commander looks at the young fidgeting captain. “I assume you are the captain of this vessel. Do you have your identification paperworks and proof of purchase for the ship?” Rathtine frowns, “Yes… I do? Right… Erm, where’d they go?” as he starts rifling through drawers. With a soft ‘ah-ha!’ he locates the documents crumpled and hidden in a corner, and hands them over.

“And what, may I ask, is your ships business in the Mulorix sector?” Horscotch asks as he reads. “ Truth be told, I hadn’t realised that’s where we were! But we’re hoping to pick up goods to sell in Lautov.” “So you don’t currently have any inventory on the ship?” Rathtine nods in agreement, “Not a thing! We’re just starting out, you see, so still attempting to get a food in the merchant business.” The conversation is interrupted by my crashing through the door precariously balancing a tray with the tea accoutrements. “I uh, could only find two mugs, so you’ll have to share.” The commander looks at me curiously, “And you are?”

I give a nervous head bob “Just crew. Newbie. Teamaker, I guess you could say.” not making eye contact I begin backing my way out of the room, “It’s Jasmine.” Horscotch raises a brow “Your name is Jasmine?” “NO! Err, the tea, the tea is Jasmine.” Then I flee.

“What a strange fellow…” the commander comments, staring at the now empty doorway. Rathtine chuckles “Oh yes, found him only a few weeks ago. An odd bird to be sure, but he keeps up with the menial work to be done. Now then, as you ca see, all paperwork is in order, so are we cleared to continue on our merry way?” Horscotch nods “Oh yes, but be aware that Lautov runs on its own customs system. They will want to examine your paperwork and ship themselves before they let you out of the dock.” 

Rathtine frowns “That’s a bit inconvenient, can’t you just give us a stamp or something that will let us through, I mean, we have already done the customs check, and all. I’d just hate to waste more time when all we want to do it make some purchases before moving on.” 

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. The government of Lautov doesn’t recognise the governmental bodies from elsewhere. As inconvenient as it is, you’ll have to just bear down and go through the second check. Seeing as how you’re not hiding any contraband, it should go smoothly.” Rathine gives off another chuckle “No sir, nothing hidden here but radiation leaks!” Earning another distasteful look from Commander Horscotch. 

“On that lovely note, I believe my men and I will leave you to your travels.” With a formal nod, the commander tuts to his men who all begin marching back to the entrance of the ship. Rathtine looks at the tray balanced on a stack of books and loses himself in contemplation. Jeffrey joins him after seeing the officials out. “They didn’t even drink the tea.” Rathtine mutters. Jeffrey smiles “More for us then! We can have a cup with we sort out the mess in here!”

 

It takes a further week for the Fun Ducker to make its way to the port of Lautov. It’s an outdated port, in a technologically weak system. Weapons of all kinds are banned, but funnily enough, the system has no issue with drugs. Captain Rathtine was overjoyed at this news, thinking it was about time they were able to actually make some money. Such comments earned him an eyeroll and a dirty look from Dr. Monty and a cheerful laugh from Starstrap. Within a few days of travel the tea had run out on the ship, it apparently becoming a new obsession from the crew. There was a vicious circle of ‘I want tea’ to be followed by ‘we don’t have tea’ then rounded up by ‘tea would make me feel better’.

In order to distract myself from the annoying tea cycle, I spent my time practicing my stealth skills. It served as no end of amusement to jump out at the crew at unexpected intervals causing heart palpitations and the occasional falling off a chair. Dr. Monty, ever the role model and pragmatist, spent her time setting up the neglected med bay; turning it from a glorified storage room, into a fully stocked, emergency bay. Captain Rathtine was absent the majority of the time off, he said, ‘making product’. Startstrap decided to reorganise the captains office, instituting a hilariously nonsensical organisational method. “Jeff, where are the ship deeds?” “Right, well you want deeds, which are needed in ports for customs, so you’ll find them filed under ‘C’.” The whole system followed a logic only Starstrap could understand.

When we arrived in Lautov, they had placed in the last bay at the outer edge of the port. There was a forty minute delay where we weren’t allowed to leave the ship before being assessed by customs, but no customs team was available. Finally a group of about thirty soldiers marched their way over to us, led by a greasy weasley fellow who ordered us to line up outside the ship. The men high marched their way onto the ship with a chorus of ‘hut, hut, hut’ that amuses me greatly. I found my head bobbing in time to their marching and forgot to even be nervous about what they would find. After about thirty minutes of bored waiting on the concrete tarmac, we hear a shout of “Clear!” followed by the rising sound of ‘hut hut hut’ as the men stomped their way back off the ship. 

The leading man scribbled on a piece of paper, shoved it at Captain Rathtine, and they were off, leaving us staring blankly after them. “That was, oddly anticlimactic.” Starstrap mumbles. I nod in agreement. “Well then, Monty, shall we go off for a drink?” Jeffrey asks, “We shall.” she replies and the two make their way across the tramac to the city port beyond the walls.

“What will you do?” I ask the captain, seeing him walk down the gangplank with a folding chair, a duffle bag, and a large sign. Pulling a paint-marker from his pocket he writes out slowly ‘Got Drugs Here’ and responds “Well, I think I’ll make us some money.”

Feeling lost and slightly untethered, I decide to make my way to the city port myself, weaving in the throngs of people occasionally pipping into other conversations with comments like “I hear the guy that makes STUFF just landed in port.” and other such helpful comments. Making my way to the merchant sector I locate a tea seller, hoping to replace the ships stores. The seller obviously mistook my purpose as one for retail value, and asked me how many tonnes I wanted to buy. I blinked at him. “Uh… how much?” Thus, the haggling begins. I am obviously inexperienced in the ways of price negotiation, something the merchant uses to his advantage, but I am also small and cute, making my wide, grey doe eyes impossible to resist. So after much too-ing and fro-ing I manage to bring the original price down ten percent. Feeling mighty proud of myself, I order and pay for two tonnes to be delivered directly to the ship.

Back outside the FunDucker, Rathtine attracts a few unsavoury junkies to make some small time sales. After about an hour a group of men start traipsing across the tarmac towards the ship. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this” he says to himself, throwing the duffle bag back onto the ship and pulling out his marker to amend the sign. ‘Got drugs here?” it now reads. He then settles himself down and waits for the group to finish making their way toward him.


	2. Lautov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few drinks and a chance to meet the locals. What fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested in being my Beta, I'd love you forever!

Dester Rathtine watched from his lounge chair as five scruffy men made their way toward the ship. Looking around the port only two ships appeared to be within shouting distance, but the crews seemed oblivious to the threat of the men stomping towards the ship. Dester could see people off in the distance at the exit of the port and the busy town beyond seeming too far for any help to arrive. 

The men were thugs, it was recognisable in the furtive glances they kept giving around themselves, the way they help themselves with puffed out chests in an attempt to look bigger, it was the cheap and obviously hand done tattoos that climbed up necks and across their faces and hands. The apparent leader of the group was an older bearded man sporting a gammy glazed eye and only one tooth. His lips were stained with what one could guess was years of smoke utilisation. This theory was backed up by the hand carved pipe hanging at his belt and the rising smell of pungent sweat, smoke, and urine.

“Words been getting around that you been trading in the not-so-legals on our turf.” The man stepped closer to the seated captain. “That’s bad news, you see. We have dibbs. This place is ours and newbies coming in here is bad for business. So we’re gonna need you to hand over the goods; confiscated for the greater good, you know? Resist us and we aren’t going to be best pleased.” The four other goons begin pulling out pipes and chains, spreading themselves out to cover more area.

Dester looks at the men and nods to himself. “Sure. Let me get it for you.” Calm as you please, he begins folding up his chair, picking up the sign and bag of goods and walking slowing up the ramp onto the ship. Placing his load against the wall, he says “I’ll bring it right out” and pushes the button to close the cargo hatch. 

There is a moment of silence as the group watches the hatch slowly begin to rise in the air. The ringleader says “Hey!” and the others seem to snap to. One of the men jumps up and grips the edge of the hatch in an attempt to pull himself up. There’s a moment where Dester gets concerned that the man is going to get onto the ship, the man shouts in triumph as he rests his waist on the edge of the hatch. That shout quickly turns into a scream as the door continues to close, the man's upper body within the ship and his legs dangling outside. There’s a grinding sound as the hatch hits resistance, the screams becoming shrill and wet; after a moment of stillness the door finishes closing with a sickening crunch, and Dester watches as the limp torso flops to the cargo floor, noting the trails of blooding dripping down the hatch. 

“Well. I wasn’t expecting that.” He can hear shouting from outside the ship, as the enraged gang begins threatening him and banging against the hull of the ship. With a sigh, the captain picks up his chair from against the wall, opens it back out, and sits down to contemplate the body in front of him.

 

Jeffrey and Monty made their way through the dusty port town in search of a bar. After a few enquiries they are directed to The Watering Hole, which was apparently the only bar within thirty kilometers. It was a concrete building, sporting a few empty window frames and a homemade sign of a well. “Creative” Monty notes drily, taking in the uninspiring exterior complete with a passed out man laying in a pool of his own sick near the door.

“It doesn’t look like we are rife with choice. Come, old friend! Let us get ourselves a drink!” The two enter the bar into a darkened interior, conversation lulling as the patrons take a moment to glance at the newcomers, before promptly ignoring them. “Barkeep! Let us imbibe of your finest ale!” Jeffrey sweeps up to the bar, leaning over and winking conspiratorially, “Our travels have taken us far and wide, yet here we are. Word has gone round that this establishment is top-notch for the thirsty traveller and we are simply overcome with excitement to try your wares! Please, my friend, serve us your best! Your coldest! Impress upon us with your liquid gold!”

Monty snorts, “Jeffrey, I do believe that man has no idea what you are blathering on about. Look, you broke him.” She points at the shocked bartender, standing still and staring at Jeffrey with a look of utter confusion. With a shake the man pulls out two pint glasses and begins filling them, shooting distrustful glances across the bar. “Let us enjoy our drink before they chase us out with pitchforks.”

 

The town was busy. Merchants called out their wares, and farmers brought in trucks of their harvest and shepherded livestock down the street. There were people everywhere, some striding along with purpose, others meandering slowly as they perused the various stalls available, and children ran between the throngs of people adding the sharp sound of their laughter to the cacophony of sound. I gave a deep breath and allowed myself to get lost in the noise of the crowd, thinking for the first time in many years of the crowded planet I once called home, and the family I had left behind. It was a taboo subject to be sure. As a thief I refused to acknowledge the existence of any family, they would be at risk otherwise, and as an adult I avoided crowds like a plague far preferring the silence and peace that came from space. However, with no agenda in mind, I allowed myself to remember things from times long past, and enjoy the feeling of being just one of many, insignificant to the workings of the day.

Nostalgia can only entertain for so long. Within two hours my limit had been reached. One stray hand too many came creeping towards my coin purse, and even the tantalising smell of fresh made blackberry tarts wasn’t enough to soothe the stress coiling up between my shoulders. Making my way back towards the port, I was surprised to see the entrance completely block by a milling crowd. The excitement in the group was palpable, people kept peering through the gates, and many were calling out bets. I spotted two familiar faces attempting to force their way through the crowd and hurried to join them.

“What’s all this about?” I asked

“Apparently there is some kind of altercation happening by one of the ships.” Jeffrey shouted over his shoulder, pushing his way further along.

“Which ship?” I shouted back. Both of them simply look at me before turning away.

Once we finally managed to push our way through the throng of people, my question was answered. Monty breaks out into a quick military stride, quickly passed by Starstrap running up from behind her. I start whistling and skip along after them. We approach the ship to see four darkly dressed individuals banging pipes against the ship, one of which was screaming obscenities towards the hatch door. The cargo door seems to be dripping paint, and there’s a mound laying on the floor in front of it.

Starstrap gets to the ship first. “What’s going on here?” He calls to the men. They ignore him.

“GET OUT HERE YOU DRUG THIEVING, MURDERING SHIT!” One man calls, kicking the cargo door, as Monty and I arrive.

“EXCUSE ME!” Starstrap yells, clapping his hands together. The group stops and turns towards him. “Right, hello gentlemen, what seems to be the problem here?” he asks, arms spread in a welcoming gesture.

“I’ll tell you! This prick here stole from out ship!” An older, nearly toothless man calls out, pointing at the cargo door. “Instead of handling it fair and proper-like, he’s hidden away like a rat and attacked our man!” At this point we all turn to look at the mound, noting that it was the lower half of a body. 

Starstrap sighs, “I didn’t need to see that today.”

“Well, I’m not cleaning that up.” I interject. Monty just stares at the body in horror.

“Gents, why don’t we back up a little bit. Tell me your names and what happened here, let’s see if I can help. My name is Stephen Barnes” Starstrap extends a hand out to the toothless man, who takes it in his sticky grip.

“Well sir, we just want our goods back. That prick is a thief!”

Jeffrey nods. “I see, what goods did he steal? Ah, Doctor, mind going over and checking out our poor friend over there?” He nods towards the body, pulling Monty out of her grim staring contest.

“Right. I’m just gonna see if there’s anything I can do.” She says, walking over to the corpse, effectively flanking the leader of the group and bending down and pretending to check for signs of life, while pulling a knife out of her boot. Meanwhile, I walk over to the other side of the group, completely unnoticed as only the most small and inconspicuous people can be. The group leader continues telling Jeffrey his story about being robbed by Captain Rathtine and his unwarranted attack. 

Starstrap nods and asks again “What goods did he steal? And it seems mighty strange to me that he stole this right outside his own ship. I feel like there are holes in your story gentlemen.”

The look the leader gives turns icy. “Yea? What do you know about it?!” he shoves at Starstrap, pushing back a few steps “You keep your nose out of it!” One of the men leaps forward and brings his pipe down on Starstrap’s shoulder, who falls to his knees with a curse. 

“Oh dear.” Monty sighs before swinging her blade across the back of the leader. With all the radiant joy that comes from adrenaline, I activate my piston fist and pop one of the goons in the back of the head, stunning him. I had picked up the tool on my rogue asteroid base; it was a digging tool, use to break up stone. A few augmentations and DNA activation, and I had a glove that could nearly punch through solid steel.

Rathtine hears the commotion and gives a heavy sigh, pulling out his sword from his duffel bag and opening up the cargo door. It become quickly obvious that the majority of individuals involved in the fight aren’t practiced at actually connecting any of their blows. The leader swings a pipe at Starstrap just as he falls from the shoulder blow, aiming for the head and missing entirely. The stunned goon takes a barefisted swing at me, arm flying about a foot to my left. Another goon takes a length of chain whips it towards Monty’s feet, caressing down her thigh, but not causing any harm. With another curse, Starstrap pulls out a pistol and attempts to shoot his assailant, forgetting to load it. Rathtine comes running down the cargo ramp and takes a swing with his sword at the leader, while Monty stabs at him with her dagger. The leader gives an impressive twist and avoids both blows. 

I grab the flailing arm of my dazed attacker and give him another hard pop to the back of my head with my piston fist. The second punch was enough. There was a sickening crunch and the goons head caved in on itself in a spray of blood and brain matter. I let the body fall to the floor as everyone turned toward the sound. Staring at the leader I made a come hither gesture with one hand, giving him an evil grin.

They obviously took off running. Starstrap had finally loaded his pistol and gave one shot towards the departing group, hitting the leader in the shoulder. “FUCKING PLEBS!” He shouted at the retreating figures.

 

Everyone looked at the two bodies that lay in front of the ship. The crowd that had been forming was now nowhere to be seen. A desolate sounding wind came curling past us as the silence stretched on. I’m suddenly reminded: “Captain, did my present arrive?”

“Oh yes, let’s just ignore the attack that literally just happened!” Rathtine shouts, gesturing to the corpses, “Yes, it arrived. Two tonnes? Seriously?!”

“Two tonnes of what?” Monty asks. 

“I bought us tea.” I chuckle to myself, pulling out a handkerchief out of my pocket and cleaning the bits of bone out of my piston fist.

“Excellent, I’ll put the kettle on!” Starstrap exclaims, and makes his way onto the ship.

“Is anyone hurt?” Monty asks, everyone shakes their head. She nods, “Captain, what does your sign say?”

Rathtine coughs, “Err, it’s a philosophical question and performance art. A commentary on the state of Lautov.” Glancing around he notices the pool of blood from the upper torso creeping towards his duffel bag. “AH! My drugs!” He runs onto the ship.

“Mmm-hmm…” She cocks an eyebrow at him as Starstrap returns with a pot of tea, two glasses and two bowls. “Jeffrey, did you bring me on a ship that is producing and distributing drugs?”

He coughs. “Absolutely not! No drugs, Dester here is just a normal chemist.”

“That sounds like a bullshit story to cover up a drug running enterprise.” Monty crosses her arms and gives a bone chilling glare at her friend. 

“Chemist! He’s just a chemist, makes things like aspirin. You know, to help people!” Jeffrey stutters out. I can’t help but laugh. No one notices me.

“Jeffrey..” Monty growls.

“Monty!” Starstrap entreats.

Monty sighs, shakes out her arms, and cracks her neck. “I am choosing to believe you. I simply do not want to know, understand?”

Starstrap nods “We’re just delivering goods, that’s all.” He laughs nervously and turns to me. “Hey Tabias, do we have a bucket?”

“Uh-uh, I’m not cleaning this up. No way. I did my bit!” I waggle a finger at him and Monty stomps her way onto the ship.

 

Coming from the west there’s a sound of truck coming along a dusty dirt track. Starstrap and I turn to the sound and I quickly power down my piston fist and hide it in my belt pouch. Captain Rathtine kicks the torso down the ramp and out of the ship. I lean over and rifle through the pockets of the corpse in front of me, finding seven credits that I pocket happily. The rusted truck pulls up alongside the ship and an incredibly thin, seven foot tall woman steps out. She has cheekbones and a chin that look sharp enough to cut glass, a poorly done pixie cut and vividly green hair. She looks like a proper criminal, tight jeans with biker boots, a leather jacket and dark sunglasses. She is immediately identifiable as the woman we’re meant to deliver the Pophypso goods to.

“I see you’ve met the locals.” she says, nodding to the mess.

Captain Rathtine approaches her, “Ah I believe we’ve been expecting you, Ms…?”

“Jezica Sparrax. You have a shipment for me.”

“Right, we’ll get that out for you. Can I interest you in some tea? We can give you a whole tonne if you wanted!”

“Hey! That’s MY tea!” I shout out.

Jezica laughs, “No I’m quite alright. I’m just here to verify the goods. We’ll send someone to pick them up tomorrow, you’ll just need to move them into the loading dock across the road.”

Together the two make their way onto the ship, a crate is pulled out of a hidden cache and Jezica inspects the seal and tuts in approval. Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a checkbook and gives a payment slip of fifty thousand credits. Rathtine smiles and again extends the offer of tea. I glare at the two of them. Business temporarily concluded, Jezica makes her way back to the truck. Her visit was brief and efficient. 

It’s decided that as a group we’ll move the crates in the morning. Everyone needed a chance to calm and recover after an eventful day. I spend a portion of the evening moving as much of the tea as I can into my quarters, shooting passive aggressive stares at Rathtine whenever I can. Overall he seemed relatively unfazed by my death glares.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I hope you like this, I've really enjoyed writing it.  
> I aim to post a new chapter about every two weeks or so. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


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